


The Good Fight

by groundyonly



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:26:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundyonly/pseuds/groundyonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red evaluates his relationship with Lizzie while they are on the dance floor. Could be Lizzington, but this would be the extent of it until and unless the series makes it so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Fight

_This isn’t happening._

Raymond Reddington closed his eyes for a second and then looked again at Elizabeth Keen, standing there in that red dress before him, a sight that almost literally took his breath away with its beauty. There was a touch of sadness in her eyes, as there so often was lately, but the tiny smile that crept onto her lips as she regarded him in his black tuxedo erased it, and she nodded just slightly in approval.

“Nice,” she said to him. “You scrub up well.”

The gravelly quality to his voice when he spoke surprised him. “So do you.”

She burst into a grin. “You sure know how to boost a girl’s ego,” she joked quietly. _Quietly,_ he noted. She was still recovering from whatever had gone on in her life before she got here tonight. Still, she was trying to put on a brave face. A quality woman.

Reddington met her grin with a soft, kind smile that spoke of care and fondness. “You look ravishing, Lizzie.”

Her head bowed just slightly. _Charming,_ Reddington thought. “Thank you,” she answered.

“I feel like dancing,” he announced, an effort to distract both herself _and_ him.

She raised her eyebrows, and that small, closed-lip smile of amusement crept back onto her lips. “Dancing?” she repeated.

Reddington moved in closer. Careful, he warned himself. “You’ll notice people are doing that here,” he said. Then, as he got much closer to her ear, “We might seem a bit out of place if we don’t do the same. Plus it will give us a chance to have a good look around the room without attracting any undue attention. If that’s possible, the way you look tonight.”

Red held out his arms, ready to accept Liz into them. She played along, putting one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. Looking into her eyes at that moment and seeing her look back without wavering, he felt a heat that made him shiver inside. _This isn’t happening._

“Are you flirting with me, Red?” Liz asked.

Red couldn’t decide if the tone was playful or scornful. “Not at all, Lizzie,” he answered smoothly. They started to move in amongst the others on the floor. “I’m just stating a fact. Your exquisiteness this evening stands out; it’s bound to be magnetic.”

Again the small smile tinged with sadness. “Thank you.”

They danced in silence for a little while, scanning the crowd as they twirled from one end of the room to the other. He had done this kind of work for so long that Red was able to allow his thoughts to contemplate other matters without remotely diminishing the quality of his surveillance abilities. 

Thus was it now, as he was skillfully maneuvering them amongst the guests. He looked at Liz, who was concentrating on the people around them, and studied her eyes, her hair, her porcelain skin. He watched her neck as she swallowed and felt a sudden tightening in his stomach when she turned back to him briefly.

“It shouldn’t surprise me that you’re such a good dancer, Red, but it does,” she said. “I don’t think I ever imagined you’d be so light on your feet.”

Red smiled. “The admiration is mutual, Lizzie. I feel like I’m floating with you in my arms.”

Liz giggled in affectionate disapproval. “Liar,” she said. “But it’s nice that you’re a gentleman about it.” She nodded her head toward someone over Red’s right shoulder. “That man—the one with the frilled waistcoat,” said whispered. Reddington danced her around smoothly so he could see who she was talking about. “Is that him?”

“It is,” Reddington agreed.

“We’d better make a move on him,” she said.

Reddington felt her move as though to pull away. He twirled her to the other side of the room. “After this dance,” he said.

“Red—”

“He won’t go anywhere now,” he replied. “Dance, Lizzie.”

Liz shook her head but went along with him. Reddington considered. Months ago she would have broken away anyway, tried to go all Herbert Hoover on him, or at least she would have needed more persuading not to. Now, all it took was a brief assurance from him that all was in hand, and she complied. Now, he thought, she trusted him.

Trusted him. How long had it been since anyone other than Dembe and Luli had done that? The brief thought of Luli and the way she had met her end actually brought tears to the back of his eyes. That trust had not been well placed, he lamented. He could blame the FBI in its stupidity, but in the end, at its very core, the fault was his. But she was known to be close to him. Known to be a big part of his life, just as Dembe was, but at least when it was Dembe’s turn to be used against him, Fate had intervened.

And when it was Lizzie’s turn to be held up to him, he had kept his promise to someone else that had trusted him. He had protected her, he had offered his life for hers, and the result seemed to be now, that Lizzie herself trusted him. And trust from someone like Lizzie, from someone who didn’t know all of his secrets, who knew only what he wanted people to know—the deliberate and sometimes heinous lies, mixed with a little bit of truth—from someone who believed all that but who trusted him anyway—was an overwhelming gift.

 _But that’s all it is, Raymond,_ he told himself. Trust. Not love, not friendship. Just trust.

Just.

Trust.

Like _he_ trusted _her_ —speaking now only _to_ her, working now only _with_ her, so _she_ trusted _him._ They could rely on each other. That was how Lizzie saw it, he was certain. No matter how unhappy he was making her with his warnings about her husband. No matter how topsy-turvy he was making her life when he cautioned her about adoption, about trusting others, even about how he made her question her approach to her job. 

And that trust was so intoxicating that unknowingly, unwillingly, Red now realized that he had allowed himself to relax into his relationship with Lizzie. He had found something with her that he had not allowed himself to admit that he had been missing for so many years: the simple companionship of an honest, well-meaning person. When he was with her, he breathed a little more deeply, he smiled a little more easily, he laughed a little more genuinely. And he felt. He felt, a little more honestly. Like he had something worth feeling. Like he used to, so long ago, before…

She was beautiful now, swaying in his arms. It had been so long since someone who made him feel this way was this close to him. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t wanted this. He had learned to lead a solitary life. It had been necessary for the safety of those he loved, as well as for his own. After awhile it had become a way of life, and he had put on the shell of indifference and outward detachment as a way to hide, from himself, the emptiness of the life he was leading. Because he had been forced to do so, not because he wanted to. And after that, it was as though he had forgotten what it was like to belong so honestly in someone’s life.

Until now. He realized now that he had never truly gotten over the need to belong to someone; he had just hidden it, and hidden the pain, so that he could continue. So that he could survive.

And then there was Lizzie, and it all came flooding back. He knew that she felt none of this. That he was to her, at least at first, a necessary evil. _Evil._ But now, she at least tolerated him. She sometimes found him funny. And in those rare, but very difficult, moments, she cared about him, somehow. He had heard it in her voice. And she trusted him. And he could not betray that trust. It was sacred, he knew, as sacred as his trust of her. And the knowledge, and the feeling, was overwhelming.

_This can’t happen._

The song finished. They broke apart, and she looked at him strangely, as though studying him. “Red?”

“What is it, Lizzie?”

“Are you okay, Red?”

Reddington smoothed his jacket and pasted on a smile. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last minute, but you’ve been miles away.”

Red nodded, swallowed as though to rid himself of his thoughts. “Sorry. Yes. I’m fine. I was just… thinking. What is it?”

“Someone’s joined him. Who is that?”

Red turned, smiling pleasantly, and saw the person to whom she was referring. He nodded and turned back to Lizzie. “That’s his mistress. Dried up old hag, though you wouldn’t know it from looking at her. But once you get her into the bedroom… well… it’s time to go to sleep.” He smiled.

“What were you thinking about?” Lizzie asked. “I’ve never seen you so preoccupied.”

_I’m thinking how indescribable the feeling is to realize that I can need someone… when I was so sure I would never allow myself to feel that again._

_This can't happen._ “I’m thinking about that sad look in your eyes, Lizzie. You walked in here looking distraught. What’s happened?”

Liz pursed her lips, and Red saw her eyes fill with tears. “Tom thinks we need some time apart. He says it’s probably the best thing for us right now.”

Reddington didn’t let a single emotion show. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

Liz snorted in derision. “Are you? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve been telling me to watch out for him for months.”

Red accepted the vitriol; it was to be expected in the circumstances. “It’s not what you want, Lizzie, and it makes you unhappy. For that, I am sorry.”

She immediately relented. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, too. It’s just… I thought I had everything I ever wanted… and now, everything is falling apart. I’m in mortal danger constantly, I put a hold on the adoption, and now, Tom is telling me we need to be apart. I don’t know how to face it all.” Her eyes fell. “I don’t know if I _can_ face it all. I feel like I have _nothing.”_

Red’s heart went out to her. He longed to tell her all the secrets he had been holding for so many years, to sort out the mess that was the product of those secrets so that she could move on. And he wanted so badly—no, he _needed_ so badly—to be the one she counted on.

But he knew that for her own sake, and for her own safety, that he could not tell her any of that. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

“Lizzie,” he said, drawing her attention to his own eyes and away from whatever she was seeing in her mind’s eye. He would remain detached. He would stay at a distance. It was the best he could do for her to keep her safe. But he would be her stability and her strength, he promised her silently. He would get her through everything without adding even more complications. No matter what he needed. He had forced his needs aside before, and he would again. “You have me. And I’m not gonna let _anything_ happen to you.”

Liz hesitated, but then she nodded. For perhaps the first time ever, he was absolutely certain that she was willingly placing her life, and her future, in his hands.

That would have to sustain him, at least until all his secrets were out in the open and no longer at risk of hurting those he cared about. When that day came, perhaps he could let his own soul, his own desperate needs, see daylight again. Until then, he would suppress everything. As long as Lizzie was safe, no matter where she ended up or with whom, he would survive.

Raymond Reddington always did.


End file.
